The Opposite of Silence


There are northern fields of snow,
Being able to imagine them otherwise is for the strong-minded only,

Tunnels are formed by birches bowing to the tyrannical snowflakes,

Through which a sled will cruise.

Hark! The Yukon Quest and Iditarod Glory, the small kings who mush much,
Referent to a fixed point moving farther into the past each day.

Dogs on small chains and hay-bedded houses display themselves unwittingly:

Circling frantically as the chain allows.
Straining to lick as the chain allows.
Sitting in arctic nobility (chain just incidental, here).

They appear a cyclonic unity of fever to run and barkbarkbarks.

Is this a bred affinity, or an animal yelping to freedom?

The day is already dark, the interior of the mutt equally so.

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